The Spirit of Christmas Past
by Airgid-chead
Summary: On Christmas Eve, Nisei gets a call from Seimei.


A/N A small Christmas featuring Nisei. Well, I'm sure no one expected anything different from me... XD Sorry for all mistakes in advance (I'm positive there are some -_-) but I really had no time to check it.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Loveless_.

...

**The Spirit of Christmas Past**

...

A big plasma TV was filling a half-lit living room with a monotonous buzzing noise. Dull sounds kept caressing sharp lines of the furniture, burying them under a velvet cover. A small portable lamp, an orange abomination insulting the black and white interior with its sole presence was casting a soft yellowish beam at creamy-white pages of a novel.

A reader was curled up on a settee in position which let him both read and follow what was happening on the screen. A wine glass filled with translucent liquor and a bowl of dark truffles had been put on a coffee table, just within a comfortable arm reach.

A harsh voice broke the harmony of the TV buzz causing Nisei to look up from his book with an irritated frown. Stupid commercials could destroy the most tranquil of evenings.

Having identified the distraction as the newest washing machine advertisement, the fighter's eyes strayed from the TV to a huge balcony window next to it. A corner of his mouth twitched up involuntarily as he noticed white dust piling on his balcony, shimmering with silvery-gold in the light of the orange electronic candle. It was a high time. December 24th was a day one normally expected snow to grace the Earth with its soothing presence.

He stretched, lazily smiling at the thought of crystal snowflakes making their way down from heaven. Fragile, living for only few moments, yet beautiful in their uniqueness, perfect in symmetry and colour. Little fireflies on the black sky of a winter night.

_Silent night, holy night…_

Commercials changed to the news. They were showing pictures of cities around the world, all shining with Christmas decorations, filled with the sound of carols.

Accentuating the lack of those in the black and while living room.

The peaceful melody of the carol was drastically interrupted by a beep of a mobile.

Grimacing, Nisei snatched the phone from the table. A sleek Blackberry, the newest model. This year's Christmas present from his brother, brought by a man in the morning as Ichiro was away. Nothing surprising. The mobile was just like Ichiro: functional, with easy features, battery that could outlive an elephant and with countless enterprise functions that someone with Nisei's job or rather the lack of it would never need. Typical of the older Aoyagi: buying a thing that didn't suit Nisei's taste or temperament, but was the newest, most expensive gadget in the market.

The fighter's frown deepened as he scanned the text:

"_Be next to the club I told you about in an hour"_

He didn't bother to answer, Seimei knew he would come anyway. Besides, a bit of uncertainty would do the bastard good.

_Shepherds quake at the sight…_

In a moment the flat was flooded with impenetrable darkness, snowflakes falling on cold windows.

...

To get to the club, Nisei had to pass the busiest parts of Roppongi, that was, if he wanted to be in time. The streets were illuminated by the countless lights of Christmas trees, richly decorated street lamps and various bigger and smaller figures and temporary "light" sculptures. Impressive for a city that technically wasn't even Christian.

Even though it was well past nine a constant, never ending stream of pedestrians was making their way back home or away from it, laughing, talking, pushing, smiling and arguing, with loads of shopping bags. Few more ambitious individuals chose to wear Santa Claus' hats.

They were of no interest to the fighter. They were noisy, colourful strangers with no faces, full of emotions he didn't understand. Together, they seem to be ecstatic, for a reason obscure.

He had to slow down when he got to the main street as the crowd visibly thickened, blocking the whole pavement. Noting how many of them were in front of them, Nisei resigned himself to a long wait. Sighing with half-hearted frustration, he leaned against the nearest shop window hiding his face in his woollen scarf. The snow was covering his hair inch by inch with every passing minute.

Musing if it was a universal law that in every kind of queue the percentage of people ahead of you was always over 90, he turned his head to take a peek into the shop.

It was a toy shop. A group of brats that couldn't have been over ten was tugging at their respective parents' sleeves, pointing to the rows of toys with eyes lit up with excitement, apparently babbling incomprehensibly about the obvious superiority the newest Barbie doll had over the previous model.

Nisei was pretty sure the parents were going to capitulate soon and accept the truth about the dolls. Tomorrow the box beneath the Christmas tree would hide a Barbie with her sweet fluffy puppy. That was the magic of Christmas, after all, Santa Claus always knew what you wished for.

...

It was the best part about Christmas when he was their age. Even though he'd only mentioned his dream game or toy to his parents or Ichiro, Santa would bring it for him. He would spend the week preceding Christmas day dreaming about his presents, imagining their Christmas tree or mentally tasting torró and other sweets. He'd been a child then, he had hardly understood what the holiday was supposed to stand for, but he had enjoyed the music, the lights, the colours and the rush that had always surrounded it.

His mother would play and sing carols, his father would come home early because all the business stopped for that day, he and Ichiro would play or lazy around for as long as they had wished. They would sneak into the kitchen to steal some of the food, mother would catch them and tell them to help her instead of messing around and they would stay with her, licking utensils clean or observing a process of baking a cake. Everything was vibrating with taste, sound, colour, the air thick with happy anticipation.

Mother would take him to see beautiful nativity scenes downtown. There would be living donkeys in some of them.

Then that day would come and they would all sit at the Christmas table, he, Ichiro, their parents, grandmother and grandfather and aunt María. They would eat, laugh, fill the room with their heat and their smell, small lights adorning the tree playing tag on their faces.

After few hours, they would open their presents, touch the objects of their dreams. The next minutes would be full of silence for Nisei, a silence of adoration, of inspecting the gift. All the voices would disappear and he would be alone with his newest toy.

But then aunt would start singing and he would be shaken out of his admiration and once again lost in enchantment the music carried. Not playing any instrument himself, Nisei loved music that had always captivated all his senses.

He would look forward to the next Christmas.

...

Finally, it was his turn to move. He crossed a road swiftly, avoiding being stuck in yet another mass of people. He shook in disgust when one of them collided with him. Nisei quickly stepped aside and continued walking, leaving the guy in the middle of a road with all his bags on the ground. He should have been more careful.

He lingered for a moment in front of a hotel that was obviously throwing a Christmas party of some sort. Luxurious cars kept bringing elegantly dressed people. Women in long dresses and furs, with sparkling jewellery, men in tuxedos or suits, smoking cigars or earnestly yet very politely assisting their partners.

Nisei caught a sight of his father's assistant and hurriedly turned away, strolling down a street in strides far too long to be called "calm".

He disappeared in one of the nearby alleys. He had to take a shortcut to be on time, he had already lost too much time, Seimei was going to be pissed.

With a corner of his eyes he saw two teenagers smoking near trash cans, talking loudly in harsh, low voices, producing a regular citizen's year record of curses in one sentence.

Nisei rearranged his scarf as his throat was beginning to get sore. Stupid snow.

...

He had definitely come to hate Christmas after he himself had become a teenager. He would have too much school work to feel the special atmosphere at school. They would exchange Christmas wishes in their last class before the break, hurriedly and half-heartedly. People who had kept fighting with each other all year long would suddenly hug warmly, kissing each other's cheeks. Nisei would take part in it, of course, why would he want the trouble a title of a "reserved loner" or a "weirdo" would bring, standing awkwardly while getting embraced. He hadn't shared their enthusiasm. He had known what they had been experiencing, only his heart hadn't been moved in the slightest. They had been there, but they could have all suddenly vanish and it wouldn't have mattered. He hadn't wished them gone, but he hadn't seen any sense in their existence either.

At home, the grand tree had been replaced with a pitiful 1,2 metre-tall substitute. Mother hadn't had time or a wish to dress the big one with her sons. Ichiro had been away to the university, coming home on Christmas Eve and Nisei had been going through the "difficult age". That was, he had found out he was a fighter.

Never being a coward, Nisei would pray for illness on the two days before Christmas Eve. As usual, his prays had never been answered. A constant flow of "do that", "do this", "why isn't it done?", "why aren't you doing it?" would never stop.

Mother and father would drag him to shops, complaining about his "wild" behaviour on their way there and back. "Wild" behaviour had meant his antisocial tendencies. Yet, they would make him talk with clerks in every single shop or every friend of theirs they would meet. They had never grasped the concept Nisei could do this, but it hadn't held any joy for him.

But those forced conversations had been nothing compared to buying presents. His parents had long ago forsaken the "Santa Claus clowning" and they would take him to choose his own present. Presented with a choice between two or free technological novelties he would have to make up his mind quickly, otherwise an argument would erupt. They had believed he should be grateful that they had wanted to give him anything, therefore he should accept their offers with a smile and move on to the next store. The scenario in which he hadn't wished for any of those things hadn't been a part of their plan.

He had soon learnt to never mess with their Christmas plan. He had tried it once and ended up with a shower gel and a scented candle.

Mr and Mrs Akame had decided that since their sons had been grown boys, the whole troublesome confusion around Christmas had been no longer necessary.

They would buy presents for the rest of the family in the same manner, picking the first thing that had caught their eye. They would never notice that their antisocial son had kept suggesting they may put a little more heart into that.

But that was what had been beautiful in Christmas. Smells, colours, rush, music, tastes. Having lost them, there had been nothing left for a person who hadn't cared for a religious aspect or empathised with passer-byes.

The dinner would be spend in a tense mood. Aunt María would bring her idiotic "boyfriend", Eduardo, with her and Nisei would spend the entire night hissing at him or antagonising him on every occasion.

Eduardo was a fighter too.

Nisei would never feel comfortable in his presence. Besides, Eduardo was a *weaker* fighter, one Nisei had had to dominate, show him his place. They had almost started a battle once. Only a swift intervention of his grandparents had prevented them from trying to kill each other.

That had been their last Christmas together.

...

He could see the club now. Nisei glanced at his mobile: he had still five minutes left.

He ran the remaining distance.

Following the bond, he found Seimei in the back yard, a surprisingly dark and remote place given the location of the club. But you could hear the music from the inside there.

His Sacrifice didn't even spare him a look.

- At least – the cold baritone pierced the chilly air like a blade – You're almost late.

- Almost.

- Yes, almost – a small smile ghosted on the expressionless face for a second.

Nisei rubbed his hands to warm them a little.

- Why are we here? Planning to sneak inside an only-for-those-who're-over-21 club? – he asked. His breath came out as milky fog.

Seimei glared at him with disapproval.

_Silent night, holy night…_

- No. Septimal Moon sent another pair after me. You'll get rid of them – he informed.

Nisei theatrically rolled his eyes.

- And here I was thinking you're asking me out to a date.

Seimei's response was cut short by the appearance of their opponents.

- We're Hopeless! – the fighter, a young woman, called out – We come to those who're lost forever!

Nisei came up to stand in front of Seimei, shielding him. He smirked at her.

It was going to be too easy.

- You know who we are – he shrugged pointedly – Spare us the drama and just begin.

...

_Glories stream from heaven afar…_

- No one can live in absolute darkness – his smooth voice carried over the yard.

_Christ, the Saviour is born…_

Their defences crumbled, Hopeless fell to the ground.

_Christ, the Saviour is born…_

Within seconds, the system was shut down.

...

Nisei was wiping off his hands while Seimei walked up to the bodies lying in the snow. He nudged them with his foot. Neither moved.

Satisfied with the examination, he turned to Nisei.

- Good work – his praise was short and shallow, but Nisei's ego swelled nevertheless – They're not going to bother us for a while.

Nisei acknowledged the prediction with a nod. Seimei never expected more. Dogs don't talk, after all.

- I'm going home – the sacrifice combed through his hair.

Nisei nodded again. He should probably head home too. It was so cold outside.

They both turned away to head in the opposite directions, as if they didn't know each other and had met there by accident.

- Hey, Nisei! – Seimei called out when he was back in the street.

The fighter immediately looked to where he was standing, one hand waving it the air. Puzzled, he strolled closer, baffled at Seimei's behaviour.

- Here – Aoyagi threw something to him.

A small chocolate with a smiling snowman. One you could get for free if you bought a can of cola.

- Merry Christmas – Seimei snickered and walked away.

Insulted, the fighter threw the "gift" after Seimei. Of course, he missed. He'd never had a good aim.

So he yelled instead.

- Go to hell, bastard! I hope you won't see another Christmas.

He walked away, furious.

...

Street lights again. Colours. Music. People chatting. It was like coming back from Hades.

He had managed to take full five steps on the pavement before he crashed into a man dressed as a snowman advertising a Christmas film marathon in a local cinema.

- Sorry – Nisei snapped, attempting to pass by a fat white individual.

- In a sour mood, aren't you, son? – the guy chuckled good-naturedly.

An optimist. Just what he fucking needed.

- I'm not your son – the fighter spat irritated, stuck in front of the snowman paternal-figure-wannabe because of the crowd and a building wall.

- But you're in a sour mood – the man agreed brightly.

Nisei sighed. Just get over with it.

- Tell you what? – the snowman was now in a full "I'm happy, so you should be happy" mode – It's Christmas, no place for being angry. Think positively and all obstacles will disappear!

- Great – Nisei gritted out, spotting a space between the passer-byes – I'm gonna try it out – he smiled, jumping to a side – Merry Christmas.

- Merry Christmas! Remember, what you wish for today will certainly come true!

Nisei's heart froze. Gods, he was being so childish. It's just a crazy snowman. Really, a guy advertising a film show as a snowman couldn't be completely normal.

What if what he'd said was true? Let's assume there was a 0,001% probability that he had. Knowing Nisei's luck he's going to be that 0,001%.

_Radiant beams from Thy holy face…_

He picked his face up, basking in the heat of the street lamps he was passing by. If his wish came true, it may be all for the best.

But he stopped dead in his tracks and ran back to the yard.

...

He rushed to find the chocolate. Finally, he managed to and hastily put in into his pocket so it wouldn't get lost before he got home.

- I hope you'll live forever – he whispered on the wind, carefully articulating each sound so no one would misunderstand his wish – And that you'll need me. Always. Because I'll do everything you want me to. Always.

...

He was back in the street, calm at last. He was confident no one listened to wishes anyway.

The light was beginning to hurt his eyes. He had apparently looked into it for too long.

_With the dawn of redeeming grace…_

He put his hood up, shielding his eyes and continued down the street.

...

A/N How did you like it?

Merry Christmas^^ It's already Christmas Eve here...


End file.
